Tears of Venom
by biggest-twilight-fan
Summary: Carlisle tries to talk Edward into coming home over the phone, months after he has left Bella. The grieving, selfless Edward we all know and love. EPOV. Takes place during New Moon. Read and Review! Sadness ensues.


**Hi hi hi hi hi hi! I'm so happy to be writing this. I'm rarely struck with an idea of a fanfic I want to write about, but I really want to write out this one! No ExB fluff, which is a rarety that I'd write a story without it. But, oh well. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I got this idea from a New Moon Extra on Steph's website. Rosalie had said to Edward, "I think you should come home. I'm tired of Esme grieving and Carlisle never laughing. You should feel ashamed at what you've done to them. Emmett misses you all the time and it's getting on my nerves. You have a family. Grow up and think of something besides yourself." And it just inspired me to write a little about what may have happened when Carlisle called Edward to check on him. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **sobs**  
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**During New Moon. One-shot. EPOV.**

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Still vile, still soulless, and still a monster, I sat like selfish and repulsive creature I am in the filthy cellar of an abandoned church. Just the same as the last place, rats and spiders made their presence welcome, but were sure to stand clear of me. I had reason to be here – if there was any reason to my existance at all now. To keep her safe; So she could learn to avoid me. Maybe I would get lucky and she'd even hate me. My frozen heart panged with disagreement at the idea.

No, her hatred wasn't necessarily what I wanted out of this. I wanted her to find _happiness; _Happiness outside of my world. I couldn't provide her with the assurance of safety that I had hoped to be able to. The human world was rather easy to defend her from, compared to my world. Ilnesses, wrecks, lightening, homicides – those were nothing compared to what we were. Bone-crushing strength, heightened senses, animosity, _bloodlust..._

The surge of hatred for myself coursing through my body, intertwined with the over-powering love I still held for _her_ – so fragile, so helpless to my kind – made my head want to explode. I gripped it with my hands, digging my fingers into my scalp to the point I felt physical pain.

The benign buzzing of my phone was the only thing that stopped me from beheading myself.

I wasn't quite sure whether or not I should answer. Their calls were infrequent enough, and I supposed that Carlisle would only contact if it were an emergency...

I pressed the talk button.

"What's wrong?" That was my immediate question. What was the reason for calling me? Me, Edward, the weak, pitiful nobody that avoided his own family because he wasn't strong enough to hold himself together.

"Edward." A sigh. I waited impatiently for my father to continue. "It's Esme."

I stiffened, but otherwise remained calm. "Esme?" My respose sounded stiff, lifeless.

"She wants you to come home," he pleaded. It was my turn to sigh. I should have expected as much. I wanted to please Esme, after all, she was my maternal figure in so many ways, but I couldn't...be around...anything that held an ounce of remembrance...I just couldn't. Not even for her.

Selfish, I was.

"Edward, listen, son," his voice softened. "I know it's hard for you, I know. But we all miss you, and I'm sure that you'd be much more comfortable at -"

"No, I wouldn't," I growled through my teeth. I felt bad for treating my father this way, no one so pure deserves to be treated with my fowl behaviour. I tried my best to reign my anger in before I constructed my next response.

"I'm not asking you to return to Forks, Edward, just stay with us in Denali. Even visit once or twice. That's all I'm asking." What was he thinking? Did he really believe that I would even ever _consider_ returning to Forks? That raw idea was so...wrong, covetous, and...so immensely comforting that I very nearly ran back to the rainy town as soon as he spoke its name.

"...Edward?"

"I can't do it," I mouthed. It took every fiber of my being to not make a break for it. It was like an umbrella, hovering in the distance, its presence promising everything that I longed for: The burn of her floral scent flooding my mouth with venom, her cheeks stained with red, her eyes burning with innocent curiousity and shining with astonishing love for _me_, the warmth of her flesh against mine as we laid in her bed whispering, her voice, the _hearbeat _that I had become so accoustumed to in our months together. That hearbeat...

But the umbrella was only temporary, made of paper-thin imagination and dissipating quickly under my gloom. It dissolved in the distance, only a past symbol of what I would very willingly run to if I could be sure of her well-being.

"Are you there, son?"

"It's just too hard," I whispered. I hit the end button, flipping the phone closed and pushing it back in my left pocket.

I pressed my head against my knees, squeezing my eyes shut in a febal attempt to fight off the pain. My breathing became spoadic, my chest heaving. I recognized this feeling, I had experienced it when finding her in the ballet studio, but it was missing something, something that my kind was unable to produce.

I let the misery pull me under and, for the first time, in so many months, I spoke her name.

"Bella," I rasped. The pain was ceaseless, and the only distraction I felt was when something wet trapped in the corner of my eye and rolled down my cheek, landing on my pants. I lifted my head slightly.

There, on my jeans, was a silvery, shimmering wet spot, an impossible drop of moisture created only under her image.

So it wasn't impossibe. Not with pain like this – not with a pain hooked so deep within me. Carlisle would find this intriguing.

Another tear escaped, the silence of its journy down the planes of my face was my only company in the staggering night.

_ I've never stopped loving you._

"Please, don't forget that."

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** Oh, gosh, I'm crying. That was fun to write, I mean, SUPER fun. I just find such entertainment writing through him. But, damn, it was sad. I was blubbering. Haha. Anyway, hope you liked! Review, pwetty please? They make my day! (:**

**Love you all, **

**Kristin.**

**P.S.: Songs that remind me of this and that I listened to while writing this are "The Boy Who Blocked his Own Shot" by Brand New and "If I Talk to God" by The Last Goodnight. You should check 'em out. ;D**


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